Page 11 of Meet Me in the Garden

“What do you mean? Of course we will.”

Across the way a light turns on in an upstairs room.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m so sorry about your father.” I nod, eyes burning. “I asked Al about a funeral, but he said there wasn’t one.”

“The hospital didn’t allow it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maman told us. They don’t have public funerals there.”

“I see.” He taps his fingers against the rail. “The thing is, I attended a funeral service at that hospital a couple years ago. For a friend’s sister. There was a Mass in the chapel with a priest, followed by a burial in the hospital cemetery.”

I shake my head, can’t make sense of it.

“Maybe the rules changed,” he says. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

I turn to the house. Inside, people cluster around Cyril. “I’m surprisedyouhaven’t been drafted, Felix.”

“I have a condition. Anyway. It’s a good party, isn’t it? But each year a little smaller.”

Hattie passes by the doors, looking for something. I wish she’d come out here. And then she does. “Odette, can I steal you for a moment?” she asks. The last thing I expected.

Hattie leads me through the crush of guests, to the top of the stairs and then down them, undoing all the precautions we’ve ever taken. She closes the door to her sewing room and I don’t understand what it means. Does being alone give me permission to kiss her? I shouldn’t—my lipstick would smear, the tube is upstairs in my purse on the hall tree. Voices seep through the floor and even though I come to this room nearly every week, I’m unsure of how to be.

The room is dim. Weak yellow light through lampshade. She sits on her love seat, so I sit next to her, go to fold my legs under me but my dress is too constricting.

“I need to ask you something.” Voice wavering. Pearls on her earlobes. Lashes hiding her downturned eyes. “How do you feel about my brother?”

“Did my sisters say something to you? They have this scheme. I have nothing to do with it.”

She shakes her head. “Cyril and I were up late last night talking. He’s panicked over leaving, keeps going over things he wishes he’d done. He’s always been a little bit in love with you. I’m sure you know that. He’s afraid you’ll find someone else while he’s gone.”

She’s been avoiding my eyes as she talks, but she glances at me now, in the silence that follows while I struggle to understand. Finally, I say, “But I’ve already found you.” A strange thinness to my voice.

Hattie takes my hand, and I’m full of dread now. “Look at you,” she says. “There’s no way you’ll make it to twenty without a ring on your finger.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?” My voice again, strained and small. “Youshould come to Los Angeles. You have the money to get started. It’s Hollywood. You’ll have so much work there. I’ll find work, too. Maybe I could assist you, and we can see each other all the time. We could even get a place together. As roommates—that’s what we’ll tell everyone.”

“Odette. Stop.” I bend forward, my dress too tight around my ribs. “We both know there’s no future in us,” Hattie says.

Roar in my ears. “Easy for you to say that, when you don’t even love me.”

“Idolove you,” Hattie says. “Sure, some girls could get away with what you’re describing. Girls without close family. Girls who are on their own. Girls who aren’t watched over, who don’t have as much to lose as you do. You’re an Honoré sister. The third in line to marry any man you choose. Everyone’s waiting to see who you’ll pick. I never dared to imagine that we could last.”

“Tell me again,” I say.

“Tell you what?” Between us, it’s very quiet now. Very still. “Don’t make me,” she says.

“Tell me.”

“I love you,” she says.

I close my eyes. My whole body, aching.She loves me. She loves me.She’s cutting me off. No future in us. She’s asking me for something absurd, nonsensical—but she loves me.

“Let me tell you what I’m thinking.” She’s planned it all out. She’ll send Cyril over in the morning. We’ll spend a few days together, to see how we get along—only eleven left before he reports to Shreveport, no time to waste. She’ll sew me the most beautiful wedding gown if I say yes. “You don’t know him well, not yet, but I promise there is no boy sweeter than Cyril. He’s good and strong and he’ll provide for you. He’ll treat you well.”

The longer she speaks, I see that she’s decided. The clock chimes upstairs, it’s midnight. I cross the room to her pile of fabric scraps, wipe the lipstick off my mouth. “Kiss me,” I say.